


My soulmate is an assassin.

by jellyfic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (some background relationship if you squint), Assassin AU, Blood, Dark, Fight Scenes, Guns, Kind of thriller?, Knives, M/M, Mention of Death, Soulmate AU, There’s fluff too though, but not horror, mention of anxiety/panic attacks, mention of depression, mention of murder, mention of violence, organized murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24666511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfic/pseuds/jellyfic
Summary: Dreaming about his soulmate’s future was the worst part of Kuroo’s life.He stared at the man hidden in the shadows of his room; source of his nightmares, conductor of his downfall. Sitting on his bed, sweat dripping on his temple, Kuroo murmured. “Nice to meet you, assassin.”______Dreaming about his soulmate’s future was the best part of Kenma’s life.He stared at the man facing him in a defensive way; source of his dreams, conductor of his freedom. Standing in a corner, lips turning up into a slight smirk, Kenma scoffed. “Nice to meet you, soulmate.”ORIn a world where soulmates dream about the future of the person they are bound to, Kuroo Tetsurou dreams about his soulmate’s murders. He takes it upon himself to save all the victims, but Kozume Kenma isn’t one to give up without putting up a fight.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 80
Kudos: 115





	1. Kozume Kenma

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been turning around this idea for a while now, and it finally sees the day. I really love the idea and hope you’ll like it too. Please, be careful and read the tag before adventuring yourself, it’s not my usual genre of fic! 
> 
> A huge thank you to [Christy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midorkiyaizuku/pseuds/midorkiyaizuku) for beta-reading me and supporting me through the process! Please check her fics too, they are incredible! 
> 
> That’s it; enjoy!!

Silence welcomed him as he entered the room, the previously closed door now promising him access to his mission; opposing no resistance. Kenma couldn’t help the scoff, casting a last glance at the modern lock supposed to keep any intruder outside, long hacked by no one else other than himself. Eyes quickly examining the entry, he took his surrounding in, engraving each objects useful for an eventual fight or escape. His gaze traced the stairs leading towards what he assumed were the bedrooms. Almost too easy. First step: checked. 

He tiptoed upstairs without fear, knowing his skills had always remained undefeated. After all, he was the boss. Until now; no one had been skilled enough, bold enough, to confront him, knowing he was at a higher level than anyone. Tonight’s opponent, a rich little player, wasn’t a threat for the blonde; nothing more than a routine mission. The poor victim didn’t even know which game he was playing, as he was humming a song while brushing his teeth. Prey found and cornered. 

Kenma didn’t give the man a single second to register what was happening; he appeared behind him, expert hands settling themself knowingly around his head. He barely had the time to see the man’s eyes widening in the mirror, looking horrified at his menacing silhouette, his muscles acting out of reflex, shifting the head in his hold, sound of bones cracking echoing in the room. Kenma took a long inspiration, giving himself a second before letting the body fall down, lifeless, on the ground. Taking a step back; he looked in the mirror, his black attire contrasting with the light of the room. 

Mission accomplished. 

He walked away from the house, health bar at maximum as usual, satisfied; thinking about how worthwhile his reward will be for this mission. The more valuable the prey is, the more valuable the recompense is. This game wasn’t as fun as he thought it would be as he had expected for the player to have more protection, but that allowed him to go home sooner, so he wasn’t going to complain. 

Kenma passed through the entry, adventuring himself in the cold of the night. Without surprise, he crossed path with Shirabu, dressed in the same black attire than him, face inexpressive. As usual, his fellow worker shared no looks, no sign of recognition, as they both continued their night; Kenma finishing his work while the other started his own. 

He sighed. He still had to go to headquarters.

He resisted the urge to pout and groan, pushing his night plans for later. Maëko would wait; she had enough food at home and he could survive a few more hours without cuddling her in front of a movie. For now, he had important matters to discuss, even if he clearly didn’t want to confront the _actual_ boss tonight. He found himself scanning his ID card to open the building’s door anyway, already annoyed by the conversation he was about to have. 

He met Akaashi sitting at his usual table, eating Miya’s onigiri as if he hadn’t been eating some since the sun rose this morning. He looked up from the pile of folders he was reading, acknowledging his arrival with a nod. “He’s waiting for you in his office,” He spoke, swallowing his last bit. 

Kenma grunted in response, slumping down on a chair next to Akaashi, stalling his confrontation for a few more minutes. He picked a treat from the box, eating it half-heartedly. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but anything that could spare him a few minutes was welcomed. Akaashi’s conversation was one of them, so he listened carefully for once when the boy spoke.

“I deduct it went well?” 

The blonde nodded, giving the last half of his onigiri to his friend who took it without hesitation. “Shirabu was already there when I left.”

Blue eyes observed him intently, probably judging if he should say what was on his mind. Akaashi told anyway; “You know this is why he wanted to see you, right?” 

Kenma stood up, breathing out a tired “yes”. He turned around, heading for their boss’ office. “Wish me luck!” He demanded, knocking on the door while casting a last glance at the man. 

Akaashi finished his mouthful, scoffing. “He’s not going to kill you.” 

“As if he could.” Kenma sneered, opening the door and disappearing behind it. 

He barely had the time to enter the room, closing the door behind him that a reedy voice exclaimed; greeting him. “Ken-chan! You’re here!”

The blonde winced in disapproval, already wanting to run away from the man sitting in front of him, a smile covering his angelic-yet-not-so-angelic face. He sat on the other side of the desk anyway; bringing his legs around his chest and encircling his arms around them. He knew this conversation was going to take a while; he better be comfortable. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. I know you secretly love it!” Oikawa teased, sending him his most playful wink, to which Kenma only rolled his eyes. “You want something to drink?”

He shook his head; not wanting to give Oikawa a reason to prolong their meeting. The latter sighed dramatically; leaning back into his chair and joining his hands together, examining him. Kenma didn’t like being scrutinized, but he got used to his boss doing it. It was Oikawa; he always made sure his little proteges were alright, observing their reactions and habits. He knew his employees better than anyone else. Which probably was why his business worked so well. 

“Give me the detailed report.” His tone was demanding, but polite; knowing Kenma didn’t like being commanded. He has always appreciated how Oikawa was able to act depending on the person facing him. 

He shrugged. “Nothing much to say. I decoded the lock system pretty easily; took me less than two minutes. Entered the house, went upstairs, and broke his neck.” 

“No complication then?” 

Kenma shook his head, shrugging again. “I never have complications.” 

Oikawa smiled, pride evident in his eyes still looking at him intently. “True. That is why I consider you my best asset.” 

He already knew that. Kenma was quick, precise and never missed. Him being the boss’ favorite was a secret to nobody, and everyone respected that. Because even while having a favorite, Oikawa was the type of person to cherish each being in this organization. One of the reasons why he was a good leader. There was one problem with Kenma though. 

“Did you see Shirabu?” Oikawa asked, tilting his head to the side. His smile was gone; warning Kenma that he wasn’t fooling around anymore. 

“Yes,” he sighed, resigned to have this conversation. “We crossed paths at the house.” 

He could feel the weight of Oikawa’s gaze on him, wanting for him to continue, to say what he wanted to say since the moment Kenma stepped foot into his office. He won’t say it; not before the blonde would talk about it first. Which Kenma didn’t want to; but knowing how stubborn Oikawa could be, he finally breathed out : 

“I know.” He tightened his hold around his legs, shoulder sagging. “I still don’t want to.” 

Oikawa sighed in return, but countered. “You know how dangerous it is for us to pass on your whims.”

“It’s not a whim,” He complained, frowning. 

“You can’t always ask for Shirabu or Suga to clean up after you.” His tone was las, as if he was tired of this conversation too; knowing it wouldn’t take him anywhere. 

“They’re good at it,” Kenma spat stubbornly, not wanting to concede. 

“That’s not the point. You are putting us in danger. Enlisting more than one setter for an affair can harm the organization. This is one more mischance for someone to see us.”

The blonde groaned. “I know! But I already told you; I want nothing to do with the aftermath or the customer’s whims. I do my job, period.” 

“Your job is to fulfil the client’s demand,” Oikawa stated firmly, glaring at him. 

Kenma straightened his back, moving to cross his legs and have a bit more confidence. “You know I won’t do it no matter how many times you ask me to. If you are not satisfied with my work, you can fire me; but I won’t do anything more than what I want to.” He paused, looking at Oikawa’s indecipherable expression. “Did either Shirabu or Suga complained about it?” 

After a few seconds of silence, Oikawa sighed. “No.” 

Kenma kept silent, knowing his point had already been made. He knew every other setter did their work from begging to the end; but he wasn’t one of them. He had refused to do it the moment he came to the organization; sticking to the killing part. There was no way he would lose his time doing something he wasn’t good at. Each of them had their specialities; it’s wasn’t for nothing. 

“Fine,” The boss finally conceded. “But the moment your part of work won’t satisfy me, you’ll be out Kenma.” 

He nodded, standing up, ready to walk away. He noticed the proud grin of Oikawa’s lips, probably satisfied with the outcome even if he didn’t get what he wanted. 

“You won’t be disappointed,” Kenma assured, one hand already turning the doorknob. 

A light chuckle arrived at his ears. “I know I won’t,” He added, more playful; “Kiss Maëko for me.” 

Kenma resisted the urge to turn to glare at the man, walking out of the room instead, closing the door loudly behind him. Loud and happy clatter occurred to him from the common room. He escaped, ignoring the loud and happy clatter coming from the common room, slithering his way out of the building. 

The moment he opened his apartment's door, he sighed deeply, feeling a rush of soothing emotions overwhelming him. He liked being home, he liked this little bubble of privacy he built between four walls. Getting rid of his shoes, he immediately spotted the ball of fur sleeping on the kitchen’s counter. He took her in his arms, too tired to even scold her. 

He made his way to the couch, in desperate need to play a game calm enough to help him feel better, but interesting enough to prevent him from falling asleep. He wasn’t in the mood for an exchange-body experience tonight. He kissed the top of his cat’s head, sitting comfortably on the sofa. _“Kiss Maëko for me,”_ Oikawa’s voice haunted him, as he glared at the angel snuggling on his lap. He pointed a finger at her, and whispered. 

“To make things clear; this kiss was from me, not that bastard; hear me?” 

**__________**

  
  


The darkness of the streets and the quietness of the town at this late hour comforted Kuroo during his mission. Waiting patiently at the corner of a street, looking intently at the door on the other side of the road. A man will open it, whistling a song and turning keys around his finger, trying to put on a volleyball jacket in —he looked at his watch, quickly doing the math— four minutes. 

He had never been surer of himself, drowning in total confidence. He knew it, he had seen it in his soulmate’s dream. He knew as a fact, that this boy will close the door behind him in a loud sigh, walk away cheerfully, and be dead in exactly eight minutes. Kuroo being the instigator of that last fact. It was what he knew his soulmate had been dreaming about since childhood. There was no way it would happen any other way; it was fate, destiny. 

So the door opened. A grey-haired boy walked outside, putting his grey jacket on. He was whistling. The keys were turning around his finger. The man sighed. He turned around, and walked away. As predicted. Mission started. 

Kuroo finally slipped out of his hiding place; following the man carefully. He looked at his back, observing how built the man was. Kuroo wasn’t very strong or tall; he had always been pretty small for his age, but his force was nothing to scoff at. More, his agility and flexibility had always been his greatest asset and allowed him to take down even his strongest opponent. Not all bosses were bulky and fierce men. Plus, Kuroo knew what to do; what would happen. 

He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, making him turn around. In a quick swift of his legs, he sent the boy falling brutally on the ground; pushing all his weight on the body opposing no resistance because of the surprise. The man didn’t have the time to scream that his head violently hit the concrete, and in a quick motion, Kuroo finished the work by taking it and crushing it one more time against the floor. It’s only when blood crept on the ground, body lifeless, that Kuroo got off of the now-dead man. He looked at his watch; on time, as usual. Step one; accomplished. 

He dipped two of his gloved and thin fingers into the blood, turning around to face the wall. It wasn’t pretty, he could feel resistance in his body, but he traced his fingers on the wall anyway, writing three letters; client’s order. Once done, he took a few steps back; looking at the art painted on concrete, just above the dead body. In capital letters, in a velvet ink; “A C E”. 

_Mission accomplished._

  
  


Kuroo woke up sweaty, headache so strong he immediately got out of bed to run into his bathroom and threw up the little meal he had for dinner. Kneeling in front of his sink, he put his head into his arms, trying to catch his breath, to soothe the pain. Tears were flowing down his cheeks, body trembling from disgust, from fear. 

He couldn’t help the sob escaping him, feeling like his heart was in his throat, repulsiveness overtaking his body. He hated it; he hated these nightmares with all his body, all his soul. Because they were everything _but_ nightmares; they were _real._ They belonged to the future, moments not accomplished yet, but which will, one day, become true. They belonged to his soulmate’s future. 

He sat down, leaning his back against the wall, head buried between his knees. He loathed how vivid these nightmares felt, how true they were. The immersion into his soulmate’s body, into his future, was far too real, as if he was the one doing unforgivable acts, as if he was the one instigating the murders. As if he was the one killing his own friend. 

He tried to calm himself; searching for the difference, searching for any sign that would assure him that he wasn’t the one in his dreams. He listed anything that could dissociate him from the monstrous man haunting his nights. There was the body; he wasn’t small, he didn’t have thin fingers. He never wore watches in his life, knowing it will get in the way of his spikes. He knew Bokuto, he knew his friend. The feeling of foreignness, the feeling of being strangers he felt during the nightmare couldn’t be true. His soulmate didn’t know anything about Bokuto. But he, Kuroo Tetsurou, knew his best friend like nobody else. 

He was Kuroo Tetsurou. A simple highschool student. 

Who had an assassin for a soulmate. 

He finally got up, going back to his bedroom. He didn’t sit on his bed; not wanting to fall asleep again, clearly not in the mood for another session of prediction. So he sat on the ground instead, taking his phone to look at the hour, sighing of relief once he witnessed how late it was. Bokuto couldn’t be out this late. He knew his nightmares were about the future, and not the present; which made Bokuto safe, but still, he typed a quick message to his friend, ensuring that he wasn’t in trouble. 

When his friend answered with an emoji, he knew Bokuto was sleeping peacefully in his bed. They had come with a little code through the years being friends; Bokuto would always leave his phone available at night so he could hear when Kuroo would send him a message. Kuroo hadn't really talked about the full situation with him, but his friend had been comprehensive enough to just do it without much explanation. A simple emoji would be fine as an answer; just enough to say he was safe. 

He sighed, leaving his phone on the bed and moving slightly to take his notebook out of his nightstand. He opened it to the first page; the first nightmare he ever remembered, back then when he was eight; tonight’s nightmare. He read it again, already knowing each part, each comma by heart. He went through all the little details in them, searching if he witnessed something new during tonight’s dream but knowing he won’t find anything. 

The details he knew about that horrible night to come were very few. He didn’t know where Bokuto was heading away from, just that it will be after a practice day since he had his volleyball jacket with him. He knew the hour, he knew how the murder will happen but everything else was unknown. And it ate him alive; knowing it could come at any moment, knowing his best friend could die anytime soon, brutally murdered for what? Being in the top five aces? Playing volleyball? He had no clue, and it was turning him crazy. 

He was exhausted, tired of fighting something that seemed to be inevitable. He wanted to give up, letting destiny orchestrate his life, fate deciding whether or not his dream will come true. The thing is, he knew it will. His mother had told him back then; he wasn’t dreaming. He was seeing his soulmate’s future. There was nothing he could do about it. 

But he was Kuroo Tetsurou. And he would be damned if he didn’t even try, even if he had to push his well-being aside, even if he had to lose his life into the process. He didn’t know what to do, he was clearly lost and wanted all of this to end; but hell, he won’t give up. He won’t let them die without trying to fight. For now, he felt useless, but he hoped, one day, he could put his nightmares to good use. 

He had already thought about denouncing his soulmate to the police; who better than them could help him in such a situation? He almost called them multiples times, notebook opened in front him, anger and disgust flowing in his veins. He already dialled the numbers, only to hang up seconds later. At first, it had been because he was afraid. What if they didn’t believe him? What if they said he was just being crazy? He had been afraid of rejection, afraid that his pain was seen as stupid by others. He had hated his soulmate for so long, denouncing him felt like the right thing to do. 

Except that there was a page of his notebook that prevented him to; a page where his handwriting was calmer, more careful, as he remembered being confused but so full of hope while writing it. Because on this very special page, the words weren’t brought together to form a nightmare, but to story-tell a dream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I’ve decided to jump into the multi chapter wagon again; I hope I’ll make it alive lmao! I am pretty prepared for this, and i am very interested in this au, so I should be fine!
> 
> I hope that you like the idea too and are interested enough to follow Kenma and Kuroo through the next chapters! Don’t be afraid to leave kudos and comments, they fuel my soul and lift my mood! You can also scream at me on [twitter.](https://mobile.twitter.com/_no0emiie)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Love you!


	2. Kuroo Tetsurou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 2 of this AU! 
> 
> A huge thank you to [Megan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brucethegirl/pseuds/brucethegirl) for beta reading this chapter! Please, go check her works!! 
> 
> Also, I forgot to say that [Sara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaSpaz) is the one who came up with the tittle and helped me brainstorm about the fic. Show her some love too! 
> 
> Enjoy!!

Kenma stared at the man standing at his front door, holding a bag of onigiri in one hand and two cups in the other. Taking a step back, the blonde immediately pushed the door, blocking the entry. But Akaashi had expected it and quickly put his foot in the way, preventing him from closing the door right on his nose. 

“Come on, I brought food.” Akaashi groaned, voice strangled by a grimace of pain. 

“It’s not apple pie.” Kenma retorted, opening the door again to glare at him through narrowed eyes. 

Akaashi rolled his eyes, forcing his way into the apartment. “Yeah, it’s better than apple pie.” 

“Rude.” Kenma concluded, turning around to follow his friend into his apartment anyway. 

He hated how comfortable Akaashi was in his own living place, quickly taking off his shoes to fall on the couch, balancing his treats like an expert. Kenma did the same, turning the volume of his TV down before slumping next to his friend. He hesitantly took a cup, sniffing to make sure it was hot cocoa before bringing it to his lips. 

Akaashi sighed, closing his eyes. “I am exhausted.” He admitted, passing a hand over his face in a vain attempt to wake himself up. 

Nose plunged into his drink, Kenma shrugged. “I don’t care.” 

“Are you going to be difficult all afternoon?” His friend bit, casting him a reprimanding look. 

Kenma was seriously envisaging it. Before Akaashi came unwanted to his house, he was cuddled up on his couch, watching TV and he had no problem with doing so all afternoon. Now that he was forced to be social, he did want to be annoying; at least a little bit. 

But he breathed out deeply, settling himself a bit more comfortably. “Fine.” 

Akaashi opened the bag of food, tilting it to Kenma. “So?” He asked.

The blonde only glared at it, wrinkling his nose. “Atsumu won’t be happy with that.” He took one anyway, tasting a mouthful before adding. “So?” 

“Since when do you care about Atsumu?” Akaashi rose a brow, pulling the bag towards him to inspect it, choosing his victim. 

“I don’t.” Kenma winced, bringing his legs on the couch to face his friend. He repeated, “So what?” Akaashi gave him his most neutral face, and Kenma answered, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine. I’m not the one with eyes bags right now.” 

Akaashi sighed for what seemed the ninth time, taking a sip of his drink. “True. But I'm serious Kenma.” 

Kenma bit his lips, looking at his drink. He knew he had no escape to the question. After all, it was Akaashi’s job. He had to check on the setters, to make sure they were safe physically and mentally. He knew Akaashi was here as a friend and not as a  _ Setters _ member, but still. It didn’t mean he was willing to lay down all his emotions and thoughts.

“I’m fine.” He finally grumbled. “I’m not a teen anymore, I can do it.” 

There was a long silence as he felt Akaashi’s eyes on him. He looked up into blue eyes, and he swore he could see Akaashi’s thoughts in them. He knew his friend was remembering high school, the exact day Kenma’s life took a new turn. The same day Akaashi had offered him a ticket to hell. A ticket he had accepted. 

Akaashi breathed out. “I am very aware.” 

He could hear the pity in his voice, the whispers of a ‘I wish it had happened another way’ silently conveyed through his tone. Kenma hated it. He hated it because he knew they could never have been any other way. It was destiny, it was fate. A past as certain as the future. He had accepted that, he had recognized his fate from such a young age, forced to understand a world too big, too violent for him, forced to accept what fate decided for his future. 

Kenma never had any aptitude with people. Since a very young age he would stay alone, afraid of what other children his age would think about him. He wasn’t cool, he wasn’t loud, he wasn’t talkative. He knew he wasn’t the best friend children would like to have. But he was okay with it; because he needed only one friend. And he had one; in his dreams. They had a special bond, an incredible friendship. Every night, he could feel his friend’s emotions. He was very grateful for his friend because they were alike. The other boy was consistently stressed, very anxious and didn’t have a lot of friends. 

Once his mother told him about soulmates, realizing that his friend was feeling his own emotions at night, too, that they were both experiencing each other’s futures, he had felt even happier. And Kenma had grown protective of his friend. He wanted to help him, ease his fears, soothe his anxiety and pain. His mother had been delighted, proud to know her son had a soulmate who Kenma cherished even without meeting each other yet. 

What Kenma had not expected was for him to be the reason for his soulmate’s torment. 

“That doesn’t mean you have to endure everything alone now.” Akaashi added, voice calm, still observing him. 

Kenma looked down at his drink, playing with the cup slowly. He scoffed. “I’m used to it.” 

He remembered the dream which shattered his world. 

His soulmate had just woken up from a nightmare, shaking, crying. Kenma was used to feeling these emotions, his soulmate experienced them a lot. What he wasn’t used to though, was him taking out a notebook to scribble his nightmare. He had dreamed about a man brutally, murdering someone in cold blood. When Kenma had woken up that night, all he wanted was to find his friend and hug him, whispering that everything was okay, that it was just a bad dream. 

Until it occurred to him. 

If he was dreaming about his soulmate’s future, it meant his soulmate was dreaming about  _ his _ future. 

_ I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I don’t want a murderer as a soulmate. He’s a monster. I don’t want him. I hate him.  _

Words scribbled in the notebook. Words Kenma knew, at nine years old, his soulmate would write one day. Words about him. 

_ A monster. _

The doorbell rang, startling both men. Kenma glared suspiciously at Akaashi, who only raised his hand in innocence, shaking his head. The blonde sighed, putting his cup on the coffee table before struggling his way to his front door. People really were against him being comfy today. He barely had the time to fully open the door when a strong body shuffled its way into his apartment, pulling a groan out of him. 

“Hi Kenma! Long time no see!” Atsumu smirked, balancing a bag of treats and two cups of coffee in one hand while ruffling his hair with the other. 

Kenma quickly got away from the intruder, glaring at him. What’s with people coming unwanted to his house today? He closed the door, spitting through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here?” 

“I brought apple pie!” He answered, as if it would excuse him from anything. 

It did. Kenma snatched the bag from his hold, opening it to verify the contents. The delicious smell of freshly baked apple pie arrived to his nose and he hummed quietly. Atsumu laughed, owning him another glare. 

“Akaashi’s in the living-room.” He breathed out, defeated. 

“Oh! What’s this? Why wasn’t I invited to the party?” 

“Because nobody was invited at all. You’re both just the embodiment of annoying without any social skills.” Kenma retorted, already taking a mouthful of the treat. “Your shoes.” He pointed out, walking back to his couch. 

Atsumu sighed dramatically, taking off his shoes and following the blonde. The moment he stepped foot into the room, he groaned in disapproval, wrinkling his nose. Kenma smirked, casting a ‘told you so’ look to Akaashi. 

“Come on, Akaashi! Right in front of my fucking salad?”

“You brought your fucking salad here. Not me.” Akaashi stated, taking a provocative mouthful of onigiri. 

“He isn’t wrong.” Kenma agreed, sitting back on the couch, leaving a small place for Atsumu to sit if he wanted. He did not take it, standing straight in front of both of them, hands on his hips. 

“Kenma take a side here. I brought you apple pie.” Kenma only shrugged, focusing on his treat. “You shouldn’t visit my brother, Akaashi, I'm serious.” Atsumu finally sat down, sighing. 

“You haven’t come to terms with him yet, have you?” 

Astumu shook his head, leaning against the back of the couch. “He doesn’t want to hear anything.” 

Akaashi hummed. “But he makes the greatest onigiri in town.” 

“I can do it, too.” 

“Yours aren’t as good though.” Akaashi smirked, visibly enjoying this conversation. Kenma scoffed, amused by Atsumu’s outraged reaction. 

“Moreover,” Akaashi insisted, finishing his last onigiri. “A bag of food you cooked has no effect on me. Osamu however…” He purposely let his sentence hang in suspense, and Kenma took the lead. 

“Inherited the good looking genes.” 

Akaashi nodded. “Definitely the prettier twin.”

“And hotter.” Kenma added, putting a finger to his cheek, faking reflexion. 

“I hate you. Both of you.” Akaashi and Kenma laughed, sparking a sigh out of their friend. Atsumu took a cup, pursing his lips once he noticed Kenma already had one before changing subject. “So, what were you talking about?” 

Kenma growled, sinking deeper into the couch, not wanting to take the conversation where Akaashi and he had left it. But Akaashi didn't seem to be on his side. 

“I was just checking on Kenma.” Akaashi eyed him before adding carefully. “Talking about the past, i guess.”

“Oh!” Atsumu exclaimed, raising a brow and turning his shitty grin to Kenma. “So we’re reminiscing about Kenma's high school time? The sweet and lovely memories of this little cat being so over-stressed that he needed us, gods, to help him grow?” Kenma kicked him hard, pulling a cry of indignation out of the twin. “What? You know it’s the truth!” 

He sighed, it was. If Akaashi hadn’t been there for him in high school, if the  _ Setters _ organization hadn’t welcomed him, he didn’t know where he would be today. He was grateful for them, grateful they accepted him as one of their own.

Since that dream, Kenma started considering himself a monster. It was his future, he was destined to be his soulmate’s torment, fated to be an assassin. He grew up hating himself, hating his future. He grew up quiet. He never talked about soulmates with his parents ever again, hiding what he knew, ashamed of himself. He grew up knowing that one day, he would kill people. And so, he prepared himself. If he had to be a monster, he better become a good one. He played video game after video game, learning through characters about killing, hiding, planning. Experimenting, forging his mind. 

Until it finally happened. 

He was seventeen years old and his first victim was a classmate. 

Kenma could still remember the pressure, the anger as the boy had him pinned to a wall in a dark corner of school. He could still feel the sheer madness he had felt as he had thought about his future, about his fate. He could still hear a voice screaming in his head, telling him if he was going to be a monster he better start right there. A voice yelling that at least, he would have a good reason for his first murder. 

And so he did. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the aftermath of killing, definitely not all the years of playing video games. Akaashi heard about him, and covered for him. He offered him a place in the organization, offering him a good life, training. Offering him help. And he took it. Since then, the members helped him, taught him and considered him as family. He was grateful for their help, grateful to have them in his life. They did not think he was a monster; they considered him a fellow coworker, a member of the family they had to protect. And even though Kenma had become one of the greatest setters, nothing changed. 

Atsumu sighed dramatically. “I miss the times Kenma worshiped me.” 

Kenma shook his head, squinting his eyes. “I never did.” 

Kenma would never admit it, but having a friend at his apartment felt good. It brought life to it, laughter and conversation echoing in the usually too quiet room. He liked having them around from time to time, they weren’t the worst people to spend time with. So when he accompanied them to the door a few hours later, he had a small smile on his lips, and less weight in his heart. 

“Don’t miss me too much when I’m away!” Atsumu chanted, waving at him. 

“I won’t.” 

“And next time you’re at HQ, don’t run away like a thief and come say hello!” He teased, winking at him. 

Kenma scoffed. He thought he had been discreet enough last time when leaving, but after all, he wasn’t the only expert in the building. Akaashi smiled at his side, turning to him. 

“Come tomorrow, I have a new case for you.”

Kenma nodded. “Who is it?” 

“You know I can’t look at the files before the work is done. Just come, you’ll see.” Akaashi waved at him at his turn, walking away. “And don’t play too much!” 

Kenma rolled his eyes, closing the door. As if playing too much was even a thing. Walking back to his living room, he cleaned his table, putting Atsumu’s second cup in the fridge. Once everything was clean, he slumped back on the couch, mind overworked. He needed to free his mind a bit, focus on something other than the conversation they had. 

He couldn’t help but wonder, if he hadn’t seen his soulmate’s dreams, would he still be who he was now? 

**__________**

  
  


Kuroo was sitting on his couch, watching a movie with Maëko sleeping peacefully on his lap as he pet her ear absentmindedly. He wasn’t even giving much attention to the movie either, eyes darting to the clock every five minutes, expecting something. He sighed, annoyed, on edge, but didn’t move, forcing himself to pay attention to the TV. 

He grabbed his phone, looking at the hour, as if it would be any different from the clock. He noticed the absence of messages, hesitated a few minutes, envisaging unlocking his phone before resigning and letting it fall again on the couch. He didn’t really like waiting for something like this, especially when he had nothing else to do, but he did it anyway. 

When he heard the door unlock and the sound of someone finding their way into the kitchen, he sighed, a small smile making his way on his lips. He tore his gaze away from the TV as a tall body he knew way too well entered the room, smiling. 

“Hi Kitten, I’m home.” The man bent down to put a kiss on his forehead before slumping down next to him in a deep sigh. 

Kuroo scoot closer, leaning his small body against the built one, breathing out contentedly. He waited a few minutes for his lover to settle himself comfortably before asking, turning his gaze back to the TV. “How was work today?”

“Pretty tiring. And you? How did you manage to survive without me today?” He teased, plunging his head into his blonde locks. 

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Kuro, can you stop being annoying for one second?” 

  
  
  


The doorbell rang. Kuroo slowly opened his eyes to meet with darkness, feeling his head pressed between fluff. It took him a few seconds to understand where he was, before he finally got his head out of the two pillows, sitting up. He looked at his wall, eyebrow furrowed and face distorted in disgust and confusion, leftovers of his dream desperately trying to hang on in his mind. He shook his head, feeling his stomach twist and a chill running down his spine. He didn’t need to go to the bathroom though, as he just stayed sitting, disorientated. 

These kinds of dreams were probably the most confusing of them all. There wasn't a more unsettling, more uncomfortable feeling than living a vivid dream where you interact with yourself. The feeling of being your soulmate was traumatizing enough, he really didn’t need to experience interacting with himself as his soulmate. Kuroo hated these dreams. They made him so uncomfortable once awake, as he was imagining cuddling with himself. Another shiver of disgust ran on him as he finally registered the dream.

He sighed, plunging his head into his hands. These dreams weren’t the only reason his life was a nightmare. These, combined with his too generous, too kind nature. Because he could denounce his soulmate. He could call the police, tell them everything he knew. He knew enough, Kozume Kenma didn’t have a lot of secrets from him. He heard his name several times in a dream, he knew a little bit about the people he knew, and had a very vague idea about where he could be living. His soulmate had always been careful though, so nothing he knew was as clear as his name. He could put this man in jail with a simple call. 

But dreams like this one showed him another part of his soulmate. They showed him a common future, a future together. And if Kuroo was sure of one thing in his life, it’s that he would never accept a murderer as a partner, not even as a friend. That could only mean one thing, his future self knew things about Kenma that he didn’t yet know. Things that made him less of a monster, more of a human. Things that would explain why he was so comfortable around the man that had always been the source of his nightmares. 

He wanted to give Kenma a chance. He wanted to give his soulmate a chance to show him that he wasn’t as cruel as Kuroo thought, that they weren’t soulmates for nothing. Because if he didn’t believe in Kenma yet, he believed in his future self. Since his future self believed in future Kenma, he had to give present Kenma an opportunity to prove himself. 

He hoped the man really deserved it. 

Still, Kuroo had to find a way to prevent the murders, to minimize the damages. He had to at least try. 

The doorbell rang again, reminding him why he had woken up in the first place. He groaned, getting out of bed, passing a hand into his hair in a vain attempt to tame it. He barely had the time to open the door when a loud voice reached his ear, a strong body finding its way into his apartment. 

“Bro! What took you so long? I’ve been ringing for fifteen minutes!” Bokuto took off his shoes, immediately going to the kitchen. 

Kuroo frowned. “Bo, you have a key, what are you talking about?” 

“I forgot it at home.” Bokuto took a cup in the cupboard, making coffee for himself. He opened the fridge, frowned and then turned around to look into another cupboard. He took out a bag of sweets. 

Kuroo rushed to him, snatching the bag out his hand. “These are mine, go buy your own.”

“Come on, don’t be an asshole! Give me some.” Bokuto complained, trying to get the treats back. Kuroo moved the bag further away from his friend, pushing him away. 

“Go away! It’s not your house. Buy your own things.” Bokuto leaned on him, pushing him with all his might, hands reaching for the bag. Kuroo groaned. “Bo!” 

But Bokuto finally got the end of him as he snatched back the sweets from his hold, running around the kitchen to climb on the table and hold the bag out of his reach. 

“Who in hell even rings for fifteen minutes?” Kuroo continued, defeated. “What would you have done if I wasn’t here?” He turned around, taking his own cup to make coffee. “Get off the table.” 

Bokuto shrugged, jumping back on the ground. He opened the bag, throwing some treats in his mouth before answering. “Wait until you get home.” 

“Don’t you have other things to do?” 

Bokuto scoffed. “Look who’s talking.” Taking his cup with him, he went to the living room, grabbing the controller on his way and turning on the TV. Kuroo followed him, slumping on the couch. 

“We should really consider living together.” Bokuto spoke, starting a game. 

Kuroo sighed, taking the second controller. “The apartment wouldn’t survive.” Bringing his legs on the couch, he eyed his best friend. “You look good today by the way.” 

“Thanks. You look like shit though, sorry.” Bokuto winced, waiting for the game to charge with a sip of his drink. Kuroo laughed and his friend added. “Nightmare?” 

He shook his head, stealing a sweet from what used to be his bag. “Not really.” 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“No, it’s fine.” 

“Great then!” Bokuto nearly yelled, turning to him with a playful grin. “Because I’m ready to kick your ass.” 

Kuroo laughed again, shaking his head, a smile not leaving his face. 

If there was one thing he was grateful for in his life, it was Bokuto. Their meeting had been nothing mundane or unexpected. Kuroo had been searching for him since childhood with the little details he had from his nightmares. The jacket in particular told him he played volleyball at Fukurodani College and he didn’t hesitate one second to go there. Bokuto was the first victim he remembered, the first he wanted to protect. Now, two years later, there was nobody he wanted to save more than his best friend. 

Since childhood, he had decided that he would save the victims. If he was that little boy’s soulmate, it meant he could be the one stopping him. He grew up collecting details about his dreams, so he could search for the people and save them. He didn’t think about one thing, though. Finding the people was one thing, befriending them was another, but he had to live with the constant fear of losing them, knowing exactly how it would happen. And knowing it could —knowing it  _ will _ — happen with Bokuto was the most dreadful feeling he experienced. 

He hated living knowing about people’s futures, being the only one able to know how they would die. But he hated knowing about his friend's death even more. He wasn’t sure befriending them was his best move, but he didn’t know what else to do. It was the only way he found to fight against destiny. 

Back when he was little, he was just confused about his nightmares. He didn’t know why he was always having them, why they felt so real, why he was always sick when he would wake up. His grandmother told him one day, pity in her eyes, compassion in her voice, that he wasn’t dreaming, he was seeing his soulmate’s future. 

Kuroo grew up hating his soulmate. He didn’t want to be bound to someone who killed people, he didn’t want to have such a strong relationship with a monster. But he was the only one aware of the murders, and he wasn’t Kuroo Tetsurou if he didn’t even try to help the victims. There were still a lot of people he didn’t find, people he wasn’t even sure was still alive. And he didn’t know what to do, even after finding them. He was waiting for a sign, waiting for anything that could help him. 

He could only hope his effort would pay off, hope his soulmate would change, hope that all of this was what he had first thought it was: just a nightmare. 

“I won’t be able to come tomorrow.” Bokuto told him a few hours later, opening the door while taking his phone out of his pocket. “I have to help Hinata. He won’t be able to go to work so I’m going to replace him at his mom’s shop.”

“Isn’t he that little kouhai of yours?” Kuroo asked, leaning on the doorway. 

Bokuto smiled. “He is! I’m probably going to go to practice anyway, and then head to the coffee shop. You’re not coming tomorrow?” 

Kuroo sighed. “Can’t, school stuff.” 

Bokuto nodded, walking away with a wave. And Kuroo was right, he had so much school work for this week that he didn’t even have the time to think about anything else. He spent his afternoon and the day after plunged in his homework, almost forgetting to eat. He would leave his notebooks only to shower or pee, mind focusing on this task. He was grateful for the work if he had to be honest, it would keep him up all night and prevent him from thinking too much about serious matters. 

He was so obsessed with it actually, that he was surprised when he received a text from Bokuto. 

_ From Bo: finished earlier than I thought. closing the shop in a few minutes and heading to yours! see ya!! :)  _

He smiled, thinking the distraction was very welcomed. Stretching, he yawned and got up as his stomach groaned. Frowning, he looked at the hour. He had been too caught up in his work to even think about eating, but now he was hungry. He should cook a quick something for him and Bo. 

_ Bokuto. _

He looked back at the hour, opening Bokuto’s message in a rush. As he re-read it, his blood froze, stupor paralyzing his body in terror. His head began spinning as realization hit him like a gust of wind. 

Bokuto would die in eight minutes. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are finally starting the good shit!! 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter; it was actually very distracting to write and tbh i like how this au is evolving! I hope you like it too and will stick with me! 
> 
> Please, if you can and want, leave a kudo and a comment, it will fuel my soul and bring so much joy to my day! In any case; thank you SO much for reading!!
> 
> Come scream at me on [twitter.](https://mobile.twitter.com/_no0emiie)


	3. Bokuto Koutarou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for all the time it takes to update; but know that i won’t give up on this fic, so i hope you’ll still follow it despite the wait! 
> 
> Thank you so much to [Megan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brucethegirl/pseuds/brucethegirl) for beta reading this chapter again. She’s a true angel, go read her works! 
> 
> Enjoy the new chapter!

The darkness of the streets and the quietness of the town at this late hour comforted Kenma during his mission. Waiting patiently at the corner of a street, looking intently at the door on the other side of the road. A man will open it, whistling a song and turning keys around his finger, trying to put on a volleyball jacket in —he looked at his watch, quickly doing the math— four minutes. 

He had never been surer of himself, drowning in total confidence. He knew it, he had seen it in his soulmate’s dream. He knew as a fact, that this boy will close the door behind him in a loud sigh, walk away cheerfully, and be dead in exactly eight minutes. Kenma being the instigator of that last fact. It was what he knew his soulmate had been dreaming about since childhood. There was no way it would happen any other way; it was fate, destiny. 

So the door opened. A grey-haired boy walked outside, putting his grey jacket on. He was whistling. The keys were turning around his finger. The man sighed. He turned around, and walked away. As predicted. Mission started. 

Kenma finally slipped out of his hiding place; following the man carefully. He looked at his back, observing how built the man was. Kenma wasn’t very strong or tall; he had always been pretty small for his age, but his force was nothing to scoff at. More, his agility and flexibility had always been his greatest asset and allowed him to take down even his strongest opponent. Not all bosses were bulky and fierce men. Plus, Kenma knew what to do; what would happen. 

Kenma stretched his hand, aiming to grab the man’s shoulder. 

A ring. 

The man stopped. He took his phone out of his pocket. 

An alarm. 

Police. Kenma could barely distinguish the sound of it, but he was sure; they were close enough for him to know it wasn’t random. 

Nothing of these two elements were planned. Nothing of these two little seconds were supposed to happen. He was certain. He had learned his soulmate’s nightmare by heart, he knew every single second of this murder. And it wasn’t supposed to go like this. 

There was a bug in the game. And Kenma didn’t like it. 

But the more he was thinking about it the more he was losing time. The victim was three steps farther than where he was supposed to be, finger already hovering on the phone to answer the call. Kenma quickly considered all his options, listing them to figure out which one would bring him victory. He still had time. Barely a few seconds, but he could do it. He could fulfill his mission, he just had to-

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder, sending a cold shiver down his spine as he turned around at lightning speed, ready to defend himself. But he didn’t have the time to attack as his assailant quickly recoiled, as if he knew how Kenma would react. It’s only when Kenma recognized Akaashi’s worried face that he relaxed a little, confusion taking over his face. He noticed how sweaty his friend was, completely out of breath, brows furrowed in concern. Kenma swiftly glanced back at his prey, watching with horror at the very much alive man talking to his phone. He looked back at Akaashi, sirens growing louder in his ear, panic blooming in his chest. Akaashi only shook his head before gripping his hand and running away, dragging Kenma along by force. 

As Kenma ran behind Akaashi, he cast a last look behind him, to see blue lights illuminating the streets. 

_Mission failed._

He turned his head to his friend still dragging him along dark streets. He was grateful for Akaashi right now as he couldn’t even recognize where they were. 

_Mission failed._

Fear finally crept entirely through his body, slithering itself into his mind. His legs worked harder, running as fast as he could, catching up to be at Akaashi’s side.. 

_Mission failed._

Kenma shook his head. This wasn’t possible. The mission couldn’t fail, he knew how it was supposed to go. He had to go back. He had to kill the man. He had to write on that wall, the smell of blood inebriating him. He _needed_ to end this mission properly. He blinked. His sight became blurry and pain shot through his brain.

  
  
  


_He lost._

  
  
  


Kenma felt two hands cupping his cheeks, forcing him to look up. He blinked, trying to see beyond his tears, struggling to discern the person facing him. He focused on his ears, hoping they would give him an indication, but he could only hear muffled sounds, which made his head spin. He was lost, unable to comprehend what was happening as he felt aas if fog was spreading into his mind. 

He blinked again and was finally able to discern Akaashi’s silhouette, hands on his cheeks, eyes locked on him. It took him a few more seconds to notice the fear in his friend’s eyes, as his lips were moving quickly. Kenma frowned, he couldn’t understand what he was saying, ears blocked. So he looked around, surprised to find himself kneeling on the ground of a dark street, Akaashi squatting in front of him. 

What happened? How did he end up like this? He was running away with Akaashi two seconds ago, why did they stop? As the image of a grey-haired boy flashed through his mind, his ears magically worked again, enabling him to hear Akaashi’s frightened voice. 

“Kenma! Kenma, come on please!” As Kenma’s eyes snapped back to his friend, Akaashi sighed deeply, locking gazes. “Good, you’re back.” 

Kenma looked down after his friend’s words, noticing his whole body was trembling, tears rolling down his cheeks. The fog slowly made its way out, leaving only the headache behind. His eyes went up again to meet Akaashi’s, questioning. 

His friend only shook his head, grabbing his hands and pulling him up. “Come on now, we don’t have much time left.” 

Kenma followed him, running behind, feeling as if he could faint anytime soon. His head was throbbing, body stiff, as though putting one foot in front of the other were insuperable. He felt fear in his chest, a rush overwhelming him. The thought that he was having a panic attack finally occurred to him. 

He looked at Akaashi running in front of him, dragging him along. He fucked up. He fucked up good. Putting not only himself but also his friend in danger. He failed the mission and put them in a perilous situation. How did he let that happen? How hadn't he seen this coming? He should have. He should have felt it, he should have anticipated it. 

“Kenma!” Akaashi screamed, pulling on his hands. Kenma looked down at his feet, he wasn’t running anymore. “Kenma for fuck’s sake. Not again. Please focus. We’re almost there.”

He looked up to Akaashi, his pleading voice reaching his ears. Right. Not right now. Not again. He nodded, as they both started running again. He had to focus on something. He had to keep his attention from flying around. He had to find something, anything that could help him focus on running. 

He felt three squeezes on his hand and noticed Akaashi was still holding it. His friend gave him three more squeezes, and it was all Kenma needed. He counted them. 

His mind was screaming one word that he was ordering his body to execute: run. And so his body obeyed, forcing his muscles to move. 

One, two, three squeeze. Pause. 

Run. 

One, two, three squeeze. Pause. 

Run. 

One, two, three-

“We’re here.” Akaashi spoke. “We are at the HQ. We’re home. We’re safe.” He continued, answering Kenma’s question before they could even spark in his mind.

Akaashi let go of his hand, opening the cage of the lion kept hostage in Kenma’s head. The blonde immediately fell down, curling his body up against a wall, plunging his head into his knees. He shook his head, tears flowing down his cheeks. 

Kenma couldn’t believe he failed his mission. He couldn’t believe he failed _this_ mission. It didn’t make sense. He knew how it was supposed to go, he’d read it multiple times in his soulmate’s notebook, he’d learned each detail of it, memorizing everything he could to make sure this murder was a success. He had never felt this powerful for a mission, this confident. And yet, he failed. 

He lost even despite his abilities being at their maximum, despite him having an advantage. He didn’t understand. What went wrong? His victim went out of the shop at the exact right time, doing the right moves. He’d timed it correctly, went out of his hiding place at the exact time, reaching his prey at the right place. The phone ringing wasn’t supposed to happen for sure, neither was the police intervention. But he could have finished his mission despite these unpredicted elements. He’d still had time to make his mission a success. 

So what prevented him from continuing? What held him from taking three more steps than intended, and ending the man’s life? 

Akaashi. 

Kenma frowned. Akaashi had nothing to do with this story, so why had he been on the scene? He wasn’t even supposed to know the place of the murder, wasn’t supposed to know anything about it before it happened. Had he looked into the files despite the rules? Even if he did, he had no right to disturb Kenma while he was working. He had guessed,while he was still shocked by the events, that Akaashi came to protect him from the police. But the more he thought about it, the more Kenma was angry about his friend’s interference. 

He looked up, expecting to see Akaashi still standing in front of him, but found nothing. Blinking, Kenma swiped the tears on his cheeks and looked around. He nearly jumped at the body sitting next to him, sighing in relief once he recognized Tobio’s silhouette. 

“Where’s Akaashi?” He asked, one hand reaching for his hair tie to free his hair. He put the elastic around his wrist, feeling his hair slowly cover his face, protecting him. 

“They are all upstairs.” Tobio answered slowly, tilting a small milk carton toward him. Kenma shook his head, standing up. “You should probably calm down before-”

“I am perfectly calm.” Kenma interrupted firmly, turning on his heels to head upstairs. He heard Tobio sigh but his friend made no move to stop him, so Kenma ignored it, anger flowing down his veins. 

He could hear bits of voices talking as he was climbing the stairs. The more the voices became clearer, the more Kenma’s blood was boiling. He knew he was acting impulsively, he knew he was still overwhelmed from emotion, but nothing could have stopped him right then. The moment he stepped foot into the common room, everyone understood that. 

Kenma strode into the room, eyes fixed on Akaashi, ignoring everyone else calling him. His fist just had time to meet Akaashi’s face, sending him a few steps back, unbalanced, before arms wrapped around his body, pulling him back, while another hand settled itself firmly on his shoulder. Out of breath, eyes menacing, he looked at Oikawa forming a wall between Akaashi and him. Anybody else would have shivered under the pressure of his gaze, but Oikawa remained unnerved, almost annoyed. 

Akaashi posed a hand on their boss’ shoulders, gently pushing him aside. At the sight of the blood slowly flowing out of his nose, Kenma snapped again, body moving forward but the two strong hold kept him from going further, forcing him to scream instead: 

“What the hell were you thinking?” 

The room fell silent as every person present knew very well that his anger was, in fact, justified. There were rules, straight directives to follow once you were in the organization. These were fundamental, crucial for the setters’ well being. 

Do not speak the setters’ code name out of the headquarters. 

Do not discuss the work before it is done. 

Do not under any circumstances interrupt a setter during his work even in cases of force majeure. 

“I could have finished the mission if you hadn’t gotten in my way.” His voice echoed in the room, firm, low, menacing. He could still feel Atsumu’s arms around him and Suga’s hand in his shoulder, but they were pointless now, even with the anger still flowing on his body, he wasn’t going to act impulsively again. Akaashi’s look was enough for him to back down, relaxing his muscles and sighing, shaking his head. 

“Three people against one. Isn’t that a bit excessive?” Tobio’s voice cut through the silence, easing the atmosphere as both men finally let go of Kenma who only scoffed in response.

Kenma looked at his friend, letting his muscles relax and breath steady, but keeping his head up. Akaashi had made a mistake, and his blue eyes locked into gold ones were enough for Kenma to understand how confused and guilty he felt.

“You better have a good explanation.” The blonde snapped, ending the conversation. He ignored the silent thanks Akaashi sent him to lean against a wall, crossing his arms. 

Knowing the rest of the discussion only concerned Akaashi and Kenma, Oikawa sighed, pinching his nose. “We have a more serious issue to discuss now, so please if anyone wants to throw fists, do it outside of the building.” He looked around, waiting for an answer he knew would never come before continuing. “When was the last time you failed a mission, Kenma?” 

“Four years ago.” 

“This is not normal.” Tobio interrupted, frowning. “I haven’t seen them around Kenma yet, but he had never failed a job for four years. This can’t be a coincidence.” 

“It was not.” Kenma confirmed. “The police had too much good timing for it to be a coincidence.”

“Do you think it’s the _Sisters_?” Oikawa asked Tobio, confused. 

But the man shook his head. “As I said, I haven’t seen them around Kenma, and I have enough confidence in my work to be certain of what I inform you of.” 

Kenma furrowed his brows, crossing his arms. There was a bug in the game, and he had the feeling it wasn’t because of a hacker. 

“The _Sisters_ would never use something as useless as the police.” He murmurs, eyes locked on the ground. There was a silence, heavy, unbearing before he added, looking up at Oikawa. “This is the work of a beginner player.” 

Oikawa’s face darkened, and Kenma had never seen such gravity and exhaustion in his expression. He shivered when the boss stated, voice neutral :

“Soulmates are making their way into places they shouldn’t.” 

**__________**

  
  


Kuroo hustled his way beyond the barriers, ignoring the police warnings, eyes searching for his best friend’s features, hoping he would see him alive. He knew Bokuto was fine, he had been on the phone with him and refused to hang up before arriving at the crime scene, but still, he had to _see_ it. Heart racing in his chest, fear displayed on his face, he barely registered the firm hand settling itself on his shoulder. He tried to get away from it, forcing his way further, but the hold was too strong. 

“You can’t go there, sir.” A voice warned him, menacing. 

Kuroo shrugged the hand off, but another quickly replaced it, grip more and more strong. Annoyed, Kuroo finally turned around to face the policeman and spat. “I’m the one who called, let go of me.” 

Unphased, the policeman raised a brow. “Oh, you’re the one who reported a murder in this avenue?” 

“Yes, I just told you so. I just want to see my friend, I’m-” 

“Great,” the man interrupted. “Because I have a few questions for you.” 

“Can’t it wait? I just want to see if Bokuto’s-” Kuroo spoke, growing more and more irritated at the conversation preventing him from seeing Bokuto. 

“Your friend is with the ambulance. He’s fine, very much alive I must say.” The policeman added to Kuroo's worried expression but his sarcastic tone did nothing to soothe him. “Now, would you look around and tell me where’s the crime scene?” 

Kuroo quickly looked down at the man’s name, an unsettling feeling growing in his chest. He shifted his weight uneasily on his feet, wincing. Unable to tear his eyes away from the man’s plate.

Really, he should have seen this coming. 

“Mr. Sawamura Daichi, right? I don’t know how to tell-”

“Officer.” He interrupted again, not once letting Kuroo finish a sentence, which only unsettled him further, overwhelmed by emotions. 

Truly, he couldn’t relax as long as he couldn’t hold Bokuto in his arms, feeling their hearts beating in unison. All he wanted was to get away from here with his friend, he really didn’t need a lecture. So he gestured quickly around him, pointing out with extreme precision a wall behind him, _the_ wall, the one of his nightmares. As he turned around to look at it, breathing in deeply to explain his call, he stopped dead, eyes locked on the piece of concrete. 

He could recognize it eyes closed, by only touching it with the tip of his finger as he remembered the sensation of writing on it, blood sticking to the wall to create his handwriting. No. Not his. His soulmate’s handwriting. 

Except that there was nothing written on it. 

Which, he should have seen coming too, since Bokuto was alive. But seeing it made it even more real as the realization hit him like a gust of wind, taking his breath away. He blinked once, twice before letting his arm fall back at his side. 

How was it possible? He hadn’t imagined it, he couldn’t have. He had dreamed it, had seen the scene multiples times, had _felt_ it through his soulmate. That made it as true and inevitable as the past. Then how did the future he saw not happen? He had lived and relived this moment countless times since childhood, had written every detail of it in his notebook, he couldn’t be wrong. Dreams couldn’t be wrong. 

He vaguely heard the officer talk behind him, but he couldn’t comprehend the words, his mind focused on the absent letters. He slowly shook his head; this was impossible. 

He would feel grateful for it later, he would feel relieved that Bokuto wasn’t cold on the ground, that his dream had been wrong. But for now, the shock and confusion were the only things keeping him standing. 

His gaze flickered to the side as something attracted his attention, quickly getting him out of his thoughts. He barely had the time to recognize the bunch of grey hair sitting on the back of the ambulance that his feet were already working by themselves; running. He once again ignored the policeman, feeling a rush of adrenaline take over his body. 

Bokuto was talking with a paramedic, but the moment he spotted Kuroo running toward him he got up, ready to receive him between his arms. They brutally crashed against the other, forcing Bokuto to back off a few steps for balance. Kuroo tightened their embrace as much as he could, almost suffocating, but he didn’t care, his friend was here, alive. He swallowed down the tears threatening to flow down his face as he tapped several times on the boy’s back. They stayed like this a few more seconds before Bokuto broke their embrace, settling both his hands on Kuroo’s shoulders, frowning at him. 

“Bro, what happened?” He asked, voice full of worry. But Kuroo could only shake his head, biting his lower lip to keep him from crying. “You got me really worried here, man.” Bokuto continued, brows knitting together further and further as his friend refused to tell him more. “Bro, I love you, you know that. But this is scary as hell, please tell me what’s happening.” 

It was not that Kuroo didn’t want to tell him about it, there was nobody he trusted more than his best friend. But he knew Bokuto too well, he knew he would be worried about him even more, he would try to help him, he would try to bear all Kuroo’s burdens. And Kuroo didn’t want that. He didn’t want his soulmate to destroy Bokuto’s life just like he did Kuroo’s, even more now that Bokuto was alive. What’s more, Bokuto already knew it was about his soulmate, he didn’t need to know anything more. 

Bokuto’s eyes flickered behind him for a second to come back even more worried. Kuroo slowly turned around to meet again with the officer, arms crossed, expression severe. Kuroo sighed. 

“Look, I know it may sound crazy, but you have to believe me,” He paused, looking at the policeman before continuing, knowing it would be useless anyway. “I dreamed about it. I dreamed about the murder.” 

He heard Bokuto sucking in a deep breath but ignored it, instead focusing on the officer’s raised brows. “You’re telling me your soulmate did it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you even know that dreams _always_ come true?” Officer Daichi retorted, annoyance evident in his tone. 

Kuroo winced. “I am aware, but I swear it happened. I don’t know how-”

“Do you really think I have time to endure your stupid jokes?” He spat, tapping his foot quickly. 

Kuroo was about to protest but Bokuto interrupted him, placing himself at his side. “Kuroo would never lie about such thing. Does he look like a man joking right now?” 

He would have hugged him again right now if he could, instead Kuroo turned his gaze back to the policeman, heart sinking when he saw how uninterested he was. 

“Then, can you give me the information of this soulmate of yours?” 

Kuroo winced, images of him cuddling into a couch, next to his soulmate crossing his mind. He could. Truly, he could tell him about Kozume Kenma, living with a small cat called Maeko. Brown hair, bleached messily to blonde, with cat eyes. He could tell him about every dream he had, could tell him everything he knew right now and this nightmare would probably be done soon. 

But he wouldn’t. Because he couldn’t deny the growing feeling in his chest, whispering to him, pleading with him to wait, to be loyal. Loyal for what? He didn’t know. He had never met his soulmate, never talked to him, but still, Kozume was his soulmate. He couldn’t deny the hope building in him. The hope of being the one who would change his soulmate, the one who would stop his soulmate’s atrocities, the one who would one day, make the good dreams come true. 

Because that was the only explanation for this failed murder, right? He couldn’t think about anything else. Everybody knew the dreams came true, it was as true as the sky was blue, as true as the sun was hot. So maybe, just maybe, he had been the one to prevent it. Maybe, just maybe, he had defeated fate. 

He couldn’t help but believe he changed it today, and wanted nothing else than to try again, to make sure that it was of his making, that he wasn’t crazy. 

For the first time, he thought that maybe he had been bound to a good soul. Maybe he was made for Kozume. He could help him. Or he would die trying. 

So Kuroo shook his head, looking down, hoping he wouldn't regret it. He closed his eyes at the officer’s sigh, not even looking up when he turned on his heels, walking away. 

He felt Bokuto’s hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go back home.” 

And so they did, quietly walking back home under the streets light, none of them saying a word. Kuroo was grateful for it, he appreciated Bokuto not asking questions, even knowing how much it was probably eating him inside. 

But Kuroo had too much on his mind to talk about anything at the moment. Anxiety was slowly creeping its way through his veins, making him doubt his previous hope in himself. After all, there was still the option that he had been wrong all along. Maybe the murder wasn’t supposed to happen tonight, maybe it wasn't the right time. Which meant Bokuto could still be in danger. 

Once they got to his apartment, Kuroo turned around, wincing carefully at his friend. “I’m sorry, Bo, but I think I want to be alone tonight.” 

Bokuto frowned, looking at him intently. “I don’t think that’s a good idea Kuroo.” 

Kuroo looked into his eyes, pleading, begging for Bokuto to let him have this night. It took Bokuto a few seconds before giving up, quickly pulling him into a hug. “My phone’s always on.” He said. 

Kuroo nodded, looking at his friend disappear at the corner before entering his building. He had barely let the door close that he rushed into his room, immediately taking his notebook out of his nightstand. 

He opened it to Bokuto’s murder, but it was useless, he knew each word written on the paper by heart, he knew it couldn’t have been a mistake. But he read through it anyway, reminiscing about each detail with as much precision as he could. 

Everything was minutely predicted, and he knew it couldn’t have been an accident. What would be the chances to have Bokuto saying to him that he was outside, a day they had practice, the exact same hour he was supposed to be out in his dream. He couldn’t have mistimed it, he couldn’t be wrong. 

He truly had changed the future. 

He flipped out of his bed, sitting at his desk to search through his laptop. Eyes scanning the screen quickly, hands typing endlessly, he had to find something - anything that would comfort him, showing him he wasn’t going crazy. 

_There hasn’t been any proven cases of a soulmate changing the future after witnessing it. To this day, a lot of people try to prevent tragic calamities but none of them had been scientifically proven to succeed._

_It is said, however, that some people witnessed part of their dream changing slightly from reality once it happened. After several studies, no explanation was able to be given which could justify the difference. The only revealed reliable observation was that the change had been provoked by different actions of different actors._

_But again, nothing has been proven. Changing the future, even after knowing exactly what will happen, seems to be impossible._

Kuroo leaned his back against his chair, passing a hand on his face. He sighed deeply, looking at the screen without really seeing it. He felt sick, head heavy and stomach twisting. 

He had a chance. He had a chance to change all these people’s future. 

He looked back at his notebook, slowly turning the pages, identifying the details, remembering all the dreams, all these people’s lives that would maybe be taken away. His heart clenched, for the first time, he could put a “maybe” in front of these murders. 

It was decided; he was going to save all of them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO EXCITED GUYS!! I have a lot of fun planning and writing this fic, as it is one of my fave ideas ahah. I hope you enjoy it as much as i do!! 
> 
> As usual please, hit that kudo button (yeah, even if ao3 said you already left one; be a rebel) and leave a comment if you’d like! They make me happy! 
> 
> Here’s my [twitter.](https://mobile.twitter.com/_no0emiie)


	4. Sawamura Daichi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! I’m finally back with a new chapter, thank you so much for your patience and support! This chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones; I hope you’ll enjoy it! 
> 
> Thank you [Sara ](https://twitter.com/anininjaspaz?s=21) for beta-reading this chapter; please show her works some love! 
> 
> **Please note:**  
>  There are new tags make sure to read them!  
> There is also mention of alcohol in Kuroo’s pov of this chapter, I didn’t add it to the tag bc it’s only for this chapter but pls take care!

Kenma was on edge. 

Hands buried into his pockets, fidgeting with his fingers, he sighed nervously, eyes looking around him. He walked firmly down the streets, dark surrounding him and the cold wind of the night blowing on his hair. Even when he scanned his ID, opening the HQ doors and creeping into it swiftly, he couldn’t let out a relieved sigh. 

He climbed up the stairs faster than he had ever done, and passed by Suga and Akaashi without a word, even if they definitely tried to catch his attention. Instead, he stopped in front of Oikawa’s doors and swung it open, startling the two men sitting around the desk. 

“I need to talk to you.” Kenma spoke, not giving them the time to say anything and ignoring Tobio’s presence. His voice was firm but his hands trembled, even if he was still holding the handle in a tight grip. 

Oikawa clicked his tongue. “I’m busy Kenma. Come back later.” 

But Kenma wasn’t having it. “Now.” He commanded, and even if he clearly was annoying the brunette, Kenma held on, not breaking the eye contact. 

“It’s okay. I’ll wait outside.” Tobio answered, frowning. Without any more words, he stood up and passed by Kenma, leaving a cold wind behind him that made Kenma shudder. He knew Tobio wasn’t mad at him for interrupting, so he would thank the man later. For now, he had things to discuss. 

Oikawa sighed, gesturing at the free seat facing him. “Well, make yourself at home then.” 

“It’s about my soulmate.” Kenma said before sitting down, crossing his legs on the seat to prevent him from shaking them. 

Oikawa sat up straight, and started typing on his computer as he spoke. “I can find you an appointment with the psychologist after Atsumu’s. He has been able to stop his-”

“It’s not about that.” Kenma cut him off, frowning. He watched as Oikawa’s hands stopped midair and his brow jumped up, questioning. “We talked about it last time,” Kenma continued. “but I really think my soulmate is behind this.” 

“I believe you.” Oikawa simply answered. 

But Kenma only grew frustrated, and rolled his eyes. “You don’t understand. It’s not just him knowing things about my life and trying to stop me. Oikawa, I have seen his dream. The night I was supposed to kill that Bokuto, I knew exactly each detail of the murder. Because _he_ has dreamed about it countless times. And he even wrote it down in a book. I knew exactly what was supposed to happen, and it _didn’t_ happen.” 

Kenma is left breathless at the end, picking at his fingers and waiting for an answer. Oikawa only stared at him. 

“You’re telling me that your soulmate dreamed exactly about how the murder would happen?” 

“Yes.” 

His boss was still expressionless when he continued. “You have seen it?” 

Kenma nodded. “I dreamed a lot of time about the details he wrote in his book. And the details are meticulous.” 

“But the dream didn’t happen?” 

Kenma whined, burying his head between his hands. “I know I sound crazy.” His voice is muffled and he’s afraid of looking up. 

Oikawa had always been the first one to believe him about anything. He had been the one welcoming Kenma into the organization, trusting him for his missions. Kenma couldn’t really bear having him of all people think he was turning crazy. 

“But I swear, I’m telling you the truth. I know soulmates can be dangerous, they can have information about us that could compromise our plans. But this- this is something else. He had all the murder planned, and I based my plan on his dream, knowing how it would happen. And I still failed. I am certain this has something to do with him.” 

Oikawa stayed silent for a few seconds before he spoke up again. Kenma was surprised to find a slow tremble in his voice, but he brushed it off. 

“Dreams _are_ the future. A dream can’t _not_ happen.” 

Kenma closed his mouth in a firm line, a bittersweet feeling in the tip of his tongue. He bit down a sarcastic answer and said instead. “I know. I know that. But I am telling you the truth.” 

Kenma watched as Oikawa gulped, and he couldn’t miss the way his eyes were shining. Oikawa breathed out shakily, clearing his throat. Kenma said nothing, watching his boss slowly trying to keep composure. He felt the tickling of curiosity in his stomach but swallowed it. Now wasn’t the time. 

“I believe you.” Oikawa finally admitted, giving him a tight-lipped smile, closing his eyes shut.

Kenma breathed out, throat knitted at how grateful he was. “Thank you. I- I still think it could be a coincidence, a one time thing, but, I had to talk about it with you.” 

Kenma actually more than thought that it was just a hazard; he _needed_ it to be, but he kept that for himself. His failure, this change of the future, _had_ _to_ be a coincidence, for his own sanity. Because if it wasn’t, that could mean he could have changed his future sooner, that he could have prevented any of this from happening. If dreams weren’t as certain as the future, he could have stayed a normal person, he could have stopped himself from becoming a monster. 

Oikawa nodded, and Kenma continued. “There’s something else.” He looked at Oikawa’s raised brow and admitted, more relaxed now that he knew his boss was on his side. “I had a dream last night. And my soulmate wants us to meet.” At the brunette’s surprised look, Kenma added. “The whole dream was about him, standing in front of his bathroom’s mirror, holding out a paper with a date and a place, asking me to come and meet him there. He seemed nervous and insistent.” 

“When is it?” 

“In two months. I’ve never dreamed about that before, that could mean that between today and the day written on the paper, something serious happened and he had to contact me, hoping present me would see him in my dreams.” 

Oikawa frowned, “That could be a trap.” 

Kenma shook his head. “I’m not sure Kuro would be able to do that. He is… Very loyal.” 

“Kuro?” 

The blonde blushed slightly, mumbling. “Yeah. That’s what I call him. It feels weird to call him by his name when I don’t know him.” 

Oikawa scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Well, putting his nose in that mission of yours doesn’t seem loyal to me.” 

Kenma shrugged, not budging from his opinion. “He hasn’t given me to the police yet. Or Akaashi would have known.” 

“Anything else?” Kenma shook his head, feeling his chest lightening a bit. Oikawa sighed, leaning against his chair. “Okay, you won’t be assigned any missions for a while. Go home, clear your mind, talk with the setters and play video games or whatever.” 

Kenma frowned, untangling his legs and sitting up straight. “Why?” He asked, voice a bit more angry that he meant to. 

“Come on, Ken-chan! It’s been three days since you failed your mission and you’ve been panicking since then - you literally stomped in my office trembling.” He added quickly the moment Kenma wanted to object, voice stern. “I’m not risking your life for some whiny clients.” 

Oikawa stood up, and Kenma could see the exhaustion on his face, eyes empty of any teasing glint that usually remained in the dark of his iris. He waved his hands at Kenma sloppily, chasing him out of the room. “Now, out! Go take care of yourself. You’ve been giving me a headache and it’s not good for my natural beauty.” 

Kenma frowned but added nothing, rolling his eyes. He stood, passing in front of the door Oikawa held open for him. 

“Tell Tobio-chan that I'll see him tomorrow.” Without any more words, he closed the door behind Kenma. And for the first time since Kenma worked here, he heard the lock of the door, indicating that Oikawa had locked himself inside. 

Kenma brows knitted further as he made his way to the common room where some of his friends were gathered, talking lightly. Tobio perked up at him, but Kenma shook his head. 

“He said tomorrow.” Kenma reported. He vaguely heard Tobio mumbling a ‘shitty oikawa’ under his breath and turned to the others, gaze questioning. “He locked the door.” 

Suga laughed, walking toward him and settling his arm on Kenma’s shoulder. “Now, now, Kenma. What did you do to our Captain?” 

Kenma rolled his eyes, shoving him away and grinning. “Nothing, dumbass.” 

  
  
  
  


It turned out that Kenma actually needed a break. There wasn’t a single time where his mind wouldn’t remind him what happened that night in repeat, like a broken camera rewinding movie reels. It felt suffocating, so much that he had trouble sleeping, the same question running in his mind in circles; why now? 

He had been in the organization for a bit more than four years now, he had killed more people than he could remember, participated to a lot of missions whether they included murder or not into the schedule. So why would his soulmate be able to stop him now? Why not when he was still in high school, before everything happened? 

It made him sick to his stomach, and all he could do all day was play and cuddle with Maëko, ignoring anything else. He did need a break, and the fact that Oikawa knew this before he himself had even considered it wasn’t a surprise. Oikawa knew the setters better than they knew themselves. 

His doorbell rang, interrupting him in a game and he frowned, pausing it. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk about his feelings or whatever, so he prepared himself to close the door as quickly as he could if Akaashi was standing on his doorway. He begrudgingly opened the door a little, peering outside to see the newcomer. He barely had time to decipher the flaming orange head before a reedy voice exclaimed, making him flinch: 

“Kenma!” Hinata screamed, glaring at him, hands settled on his hips. Kenma winced, and opened the door to let the boy slip inside. He had honestly forgotten about Hinata. 

The man stomped into the entry, stopping in front of him and staring at him, raising on his tiptoes to be at his height. Kenma sighed, closing the door. 

“I can’t believe you let me down!” Hinata accused, squinting at him. 

Kenma grimaced, turning on his heel to head to the living room, his friend following noisily behind. Everything that Hinata did was noisy anyway, and Kenma had gotten used to it. 

“I told you, something happened.” He lied, referring to the message he had texted a few days ago. 

Hinata whined and flopped on the couch. “I know, but I could have worked that night. And I spent all night waiting for you at home. Mom was pissed.” 

Kenma shot him an apologetic gaze. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. But you had someone to back you up right? Didn't you say you were going to ask that friend of yours?” 

Hinata’s smile was immediately back as he nodded happily. “Yeah! Bokuto covered up for me, like I told you he would! He’s a very reliable guy.” 

Kenma nodded, taking Maëko at his side and putting her on his lap, humming at the welcomed warmth. He then started back in his game. He knew his friend had something to add, it was evident in the way his eyes were shining and his leg was bouncing. He sighed. 

“Yes?” 

This was enough to do the charm, as Hinata exclaimed, excitement flowing out of him. “You won’t believe what happened that night!” Kenma hummed, listening, even though he knew the story already. “Bokuto told me the police and ambulance had come for him that night. Something about a murder being reported there. Nothing happened, of course,” he added quickly as Kenma turned to him, eyebrows raised. “but still! There was a whole squad and it was a big deal you know! And it happened right when I wasn’t there.” The last sentence was mumbled, and Kenma couldn’t help the smile on his face. 

“What about this is exciting Shouyou?” He asked, shaking his head. “It’s about a murder, it’s nothing to be happy or jealous about.” 

“Well, there wasn’t any murder actually. It’s just the thrill and adrenaline that is fun!” 

That was actually something he could understand, but obviously had to keep for himself. So Kenma just hummed in response, asking Hinata to take the other controller so they could play together for a while. Hinata was happy to oblige, and they spent the afternoon playing together. 

  
  
  
  


It was only a month after his failed mission that Kenma was granted a new quest. He walked through the dark streets in his work uniform, hair tied in a bun, and adrenaline flowing down his veins. He was anxious. 

Neither the darkness of the street nor the cold of the night sufficed to calm his nerves, body hot and trembling. His long sleeves and gloves - usually allies during bloody nights - were too hot; burning his skin in ways that got him scratching it nervously. Droplets of sweat rolled down his temple and he wiped them away frustratingly, his discomfort only growing stronger. 

His life bar was already missing half of its capacity and he hadn’t started his mission yet. 

That wasn’t good. 

He had to calm down. He looked at his watch. He still had fifteen minutes left before the beginning of tonight’s quest. This month away from any activity did calm him. He still went to the HQ, because he considered it like his second house, he talked with his friends, helped them with silly little things. But tonight was his first solo mission since that disastrous night, and he couldn’t help the apprehension in his chest. 

There was a single explanation for it; he was afraid of failure. He still wasn’t sure how or why his last mission had failed, but there was still the possibility that this one would too. And the stress eating him inside was enough to lower his life bar. 

At a corner of a street, Kenma stopped, leaning against a wall and taking long breaths. He had to regain his confidence or he knew he would never have a chance with tonight’s quest. Tonight’s opponent was nothing to scoff at. Daichi Sawamura was strong, built, but more than that, he had experience. He was chief of police after all. Kenma didn’t have any room for failure, he had only one escape and it was winning the fight; there were no saving points. 

Kenma usually had confidence in his skills. While Sawamura had been trained to fight and protect, Kenma had been trained to kill. Years and years of observation, of practices and real situations. It had been rough, there were no rules when sparring with the setters. All hits were allowed; you had to fight for your life at each practice, because that was the atmosphere on the real court. 

Kenma wasn’t built, but he had firm muscles, he had perfect control of his body and a flexibility that would make cats jealous. He had probably killed more people than the policeman had in his entire life. Kenma definitely had a chance against him, a good one even. 

But that was if he was in good health. 

Right now, it was the total opposite. 

His hands trailed to the knife hidden in the crook of his leggings, holding it to ground himself. There were two others on his ankles, and the thought of them sufficed to sharpen his focus. 

He thought about Oikawa, and scrunched up his nose at the warm feeling in his chest. If there was something he knew, it was that if Oikawa assigned Kenma a mission tonight, that meant he judged Kenma worthy of it, that he trusted him to do his job, and to do it well. 

And if there was someone Kenma trusted with his life it was Oikawa, as disgusted as he was to admit it. 

The setters were more than his family. They worked together, they cared for each other, and more than blood, more than soul, they were bound by trust. They have seen the worst parts of every one of their brothers, they have all accepted each other for who they were. They had accepted Kenma as he was, monster and teenager. They helped him grow, taught him everything he knew. Their bond was unique, unbreakable. He had to do it, because they believed in him and were waiting for him at HQ. 

If he failed, they all failed. 

And he couldn’t let that happen a second time. 

Kenma turned around the corner, and walked through the street, head raised, adjusting his mask on his mouth. He locked his emotions down his heart, keeping them caged between his ribs, unable to disturb him anymore. Life bar half empty or not, he was going to kill his enemy. 

_Mission started._

Kenma didn’t even hesitate at the front door. The light on the window coming from the living room was enough to indicate that Sawamura was writing down reports, sitting on a table with a coffee at his left. Tobio had been observing him for a while, and had reported everything to him and Kenma trusted Tobio’s intel.

He fished for his utensils hidden in his bun and began to unlock the door, sighing quietly when it clicked open. Slowly, Kenma opened the door and peered inside. The entry was near dark, the only source of light being the living room. He slithered his way in, closing the door back behind him. 

When he turned away from the door, with the intention to walk into the living room, he heard the click of a gun next to his ear. He barely had the time to register the sound as Kenma found himself facing the policeman, wearing his civil clothes. 

He was pointing a gun at him, right in front of his forehead. 

“Who are you?” The man asked, voice firm and low, but Kenma couldn’t mistake the fear and anger in his eyes. 

Kenma smiled, very pleased with the challenge. He tilted his head to the side, and spoke. “I should have knocked.” 

Confusion flashed in the officer’s eyes and Kenma wasted no time to disarm him, bending down easily and kicking the man’s arm, sending the gun flying a few meters away. He barely gave Sawamura time to process than he punched him right in the nose, sending him stumbling backwards. Kenma walked away, picking up the gun and pointing it on the man. He immediately raised his hand in surrender, shooting glares at Kenma who only shivered from excitement. 

God, it had been ages since he had felt it. 

Kenma closed the distance slowly, holding the gun loosely. He had no intention to use it, Sawamura would die stabbed - client’s order - but he didn’t mind using it as a manipulation of fear. Kenma preferred it that way, and he couldn’t help another smile as he knew it was the exact reason he had been assigned to this mission and no one else. Knives were his thing. 

“Who are you?” Sawamura repeated, voice charged with anger. “Take what you want, and go away.” 

Kenma was feeling gleeful tonight, excitement flowing in his veins where anxiety had been dwelling a few minutes ago. He guessed it was because of the time he spent not doing anything else besides watching his friends come back home. But he wanted to play, he wanted to have fun. And he wasn’t going to hold himself back. 

“How nice of you.” He humored. “I’ll be doing just that.” He charged at the man, tucking the gun in the crook of his leggings and taking out his knife. 

His first hit got blocked, and he swayed to the side to avoid a punch to his stomach. He grabbed the man by his wrist, pulling him down enough to give more power to the impact of his elbow and the man’s cheekbones. Sawamura took a few steps back, groaning. 

Kenma charged again, but his wrist got blocked for a second time, and he was unable to avert the next punch, as a large fist hit his nose. He barely had time to process before he was swept off his feet, and fell backwards. He was quick enough to roll back and stand up before he could receive any other hit, pain shooting in his nose. He felt blood flowing from it, and wiped it away, making sure not to let a single drop fall down. 

He saw his life bar flattening in the corner of his eyes and sniffed, straightening up. His hold on the knife tightened, and the corner of his mouth tilted up. For every hit that he would receive, he was going to give back double. Kenma was about to run once more, but he didn’t get to make a move as a worried voice echoed in the house, coming from upstairs. 

“Daichi? Is everything okay?” 

That was not planned in Tobio’s description, but Kenma was better at hiding his surprise than the officer was. It was easy to notice the utter fear and mortification flashing in his eyes. His voice had an urge to it when he screamed, keeping his eyes on Kenma. 

“Koushi don’t come down! Go hide!” 

But even with his eyes on the blonde, his focus swayed for a fraction of second. It was a small bit of time, really, it was impressive even for an officer. But it was just the time Kenma needed to take matters into his own hands. He ran, dodging the punch and jumping on the man, expertly turning around to find himself gripping at the officer’s back, legs wrapped around his waist. Sawamura didn’t have time to understand that Kenma’s blade pierced his skin, right into his heart. 

A strangled noise escaped his mouth, but Kenma didn’t move, planting the knife a bit more forcefully. And he waited. Calmly, he counted the seconds in his mind, and when he felt the officer’s legs giving in, Kenma stood up, taking back his blade and watching the man fall on the ground, lifeless. 

Kenma heard the soft noise of footsteps climbing down the stairs, and he cast a last glance to the man at his feet. Now that he had taken what he wanted, he walked away, passing by the body. He opened the door and let the deathly cold of the night creep into the room, chasing the warmth of it away. 

Kenma was already turning down the street when an ear-splitting cry cut through the silence of the night. 

_Mission accomplished._

  
  


**___________**

  
  


Kuroo was drunk. 

And yet, not a single drop of alcohol was flowing in his veins. Mumbling to himself, organizing tons and tons of paper on the floor of his bedroom, Kuroo was too obsessed by his research to be aware of the outside world. His eyes were swollen and red, proof of his long and tiring nights awake, overthinking. His skin was pale, his lips chapped, and the frowned that settled itself on his face and never left gave him a serious look that could have been intimidating if he didn’t look like a dead man. If Kuroo would have stopped for a bit and taken a breath, he would have noticed how much his hands were trembling. But he remained oblivious, alternating between his computer, his notebook and the schemes and papers spread around the room. 

His back hurt, and his eyes burnt, but he didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, he was making progress. Since that night he changed the future, since that night he saved Bokuto, he had been thinking about a way to stop it again, to save everyone. So he decided to look over every dream written in his notebook, organizing them from the complete to the less complete ones, trying to arrange by order. It seemed easier when he had the idea than when he was actually trying to sort things out, but he felt like he could succeed, like it could be useful. And in the end, it was. 

Searching through his dreams, he noticed some differences and sorted them. Not all of them were precise, but some gave away some hints. The ones where the trees were leafless or where snow could be seen were his priorities. The ones where heat seemed to be unbearable and flowers were flourishing everywhere were put at the end of the pile. He even tried to find the different places. Trying to recognize the landscape he described in his notebook, trying to find a name, a shop, anything that could help him.

Most of the time though, he found himself stuck. Either his dreams weren’t precise or he had a weird feeling in his chest, as if he was close to finding something but couldn’t put his finger on it. It could be names that sounded familiar but that he was sure he never met before, or even places he was sure he had seen somewhere. Sometimes, he would crumple some papers, heart sinking in his chest, throat itching, knowing that there was no more hope for them. Some of them were dead long ago, and knowing now that he could have saved them made everything worse. 

It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t precise, but it was the best he could do. And for the first time he felt useful, as if he was doing something meaningful, as if he could change the world. And he was sure, he was certain that he could. He did it once, he could do it a second time, and then a third time and mi-

“What the hell, Bro?” A loud voice almost screamed, making Kuroo jump violently and he turned to the doorway of his room, where Bokuto was standing, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. 

Kuroo cursed in his breath, and stood up, swiping his hands on his jeans and immediately walking to his friend with both hands raised in surrender. 

“Nothing,” He tried to say, but his voice was raspy and he had to clear his throat before continuing, “I’m just working on something.” 

His hand found Bokuto's shoulder, and he slightly tried to push his friend away, wanting nothing more than to put space between his research and Bokuto. His best friend didn’t need to see this, Kuroo had to do this alone, and keep his problems as far away as possible from Bokuto. 

But Bokuto was having none of it. He tried to push his way in, but Kuroo’s hold grew stronger. “Working on what? You haven’t been at school for two days.” 

Kuroo winced, very aware that he had been missing classes, but refused to let Bokuto enter. Which was only frustrating the two-toned haired boy more. He felt panic rising in his chest, fear of Bokuto discovering everything and getting hurt, and anxiety of making his best friend upset getting the best of himself. 

“Yeah, it’s not a school project.” His voice turned out a bit more rushed than intended and he noticed the flash of hurt in Bokuto’s eyes - the hurt that Kuroo wasn’t trusting him enough to let him see his notes. 

“What are you doing Kuroo? This is not funny.” Bokuto spat more than asked, and Kuroo hated how he seemed more betrayed and disappointed than mad. “You haven’t answered my text for two days, you didn’t answer my calls, you didn’t come to school, not even to practice. Do you even know how worried I was?” 

Well, if he hadn’t noticed before, Kuroo was very much aware now and his heart ached from guilt. 

“I’m okay,” Kuroo pressed to say, suffocating. “I’m sorry. I just-”

Bokuto took a step back, and Kuroo’s arm fell at his sides. “Since when do you lie to me?” Bokuto asked in a whisper, half surprised, half vexed. “You look like shit and you want me to believe that you’re okay? I thought we were friends.” 

Kuroo couldn’t help the sob that escaped him. He plunged his head between his hands, eyes shut. He felt his eyes burning again as tears made their way and he started crying, unable to do anything else. He felt stupid. He felt egoist. Of course he needed to save everyone, of course he needed to feel useful for all these people that he had seen dying in his dreams. But he has let down the only person he had always been able to count on. Bokuto had never left him, had always encouraged him and had never made him feel bad for keeping secrets. But lying to him was something else, and asking Bokuto to always be available for him when he felt anxious all but being the one ghosting Bokuto for two days was very hypocritical of him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m stupid. I shouldn't have- I’m sorry.” Tears were falling, scratching his skin, setting his eyes on fire. He was tired. He was exhausted. 

He felt strong arms wrapping themselves around his shoulder, and he fully sobbed, hiding his shame and tears in the crook of Bokuto’s neck. The warmth was welcome, but he didn’t deserve it. 

“Don’t do that again.” Bokuto said, voice gentle, full of worry. “Whatever it is, Kuroo, this is eating you alive. You are not alone in this. Please, ask for help when you need it. Don’t do that.” 

Kuroo nodded, sniffing loudly. As much as he did need help, he couldn’t ask for it. This was a burden too great for his friend’s shoulders. This was _his_ burden, _his_ problem, and putting it on Bokuto would be very selfish of him. Hell, how would Bokuto react if he knew that he was trying to protect a murderer? He would probably be disgusted, and Kuroo wouldn’t be able to blame him. Maybe he wasn't as different as his soulmate after all. 

Bokuto released him, and Kuroo wiped the tears away. “When was the last time you ate?” Bokuto asked, and Kuroo didn’t answer, unable to remember. “Go take a shower, put on some nice clothes.” 

Kuroo looked up at him, brows furrowed. He repressed a sob, and asked, voice cracking. “Why?” 

“We are going out of course!” Bokuto said, finding back his smile, sending a wave of warmth through Kuroo’s body. 

Kuroo winced, hand finding the back of his neck. “I can’t. I have to-”

“That wasn’t a question.” Bokuto frowned, putting both hands on his hips. But this time, there was no heat in his tone or gesture, and he took Kuroo by the wrist, pulling him to his bathroom. “Hurry up! The party started already!” 

Kuroo stopped at the door, turning to his friend, a pained expression on his face. He was about to say something when Bokuto rolled his eyes, cutting him off. 

“As much as I want to look, I’m not a perv. I’m gonna wait in the living room. Clean yourself, you look like a vampire.” 

Kuroo frowned, mouth slightly opening in confusion. “What do you mean you’re not-” Heat flourished on his cheeks as he realized what his best insinuated and Kuroo pressed himself to clear the misunderstanding. “Bo! What the hell? I was thinking about the notes in my room!” 

Bokuto blinked stupidly at him before he laughed, clapping Kuroo’s shoulder with force. “Well, I’m not an asshole either. I won’t look at that too!” 

Kuroo laughed at his turn, the weight on his chest slowly flying away as gratefulness made its path to his heart. He conveyed it through his gaze, but said, tone light, “At least, I’m glad you think I'm as good looking as Robert Pattinson.” 

Bokuto snorted, and headed to the living room as Kuroo closed the door behind him in a chuckle. 

  
  
  


It’s only when they were close to their destination that Kuroo asked, turning to his friend with a frown. “Wait- A party? Where?” 

“At Lev’s of course. Who else lives in a big rich house?” Bokuto laughed, wrapping his arms around Kuroo’s shoulder and Kuroo just grinned back, accepting the embrace. 

He would be liying if he said it didn’t feel good. It had been ages since he had gone to a party. Most of the time, it was because he didn’t feel like it but he had to admit that he didn't have a lot of friends that would invite him either. Lev was a very good friend though, so he was relieved to know that he was going to spend a bit of time with people he knew. 

The music could be heard at the corner of the road, and people were gathered outside the house, talking and playing games already. Kuroo could easily see that the party had been going for a while now as some of them already had their movements altered by alcohol. The moment they stepped foot into the house, Lev walked over to them, arms opened and his smile as big as him. Kuroo couldn’t help himself, he tackled his teammate, bringing his arms around the younger’s neck and pulling him down so he could ruffle his hair. 

“Kuroo-san please, let me go!” Lev mumbled, short on breath, but he was laughing and smiling. 

Kuroo let go of him, happy to see him. It’s been a few weeks that he’s missed practice, hence a few weeks since he’s seen the Russian native. It felt good to be out for a bit, and his heart was beating fast in his chest from excitement. Kuroo looked around him, whistling. 

“I still can’t believe you’re in college and live in a place like this.” He exclaimed and Bokuto nodded firmly at his side, yelling that he was jealous over the music. It wasn’t the first time they’ve come to Lev’s house, but it was still impressive. 

Lev shrugged. “Mom and dad are international workers and my sister’s a lawyer. I guess it pays.” 

“You bet.” Bokuto laughed, putting back his arms around Kuroo’s shoulders. “Now, now! Let’s go take something to drink.” 

Lev nodded, stepping aside to let them adventure in his house. Kuroo smiled but shook his head at Bokuto’s words. 

“Let’s find something to eat.” He retorted, looking sideways at his friend. Bokuto tapped on Kuroo’s chest lightly, nodding. 

“Yes. That too.” 

It felt nice. It felt really nice. Kuroo hadn’t been sure he would have been able to forget about his soulmate, even for a night. But he guessed that was without counting on the alcohol. Three glasses were enough for him to feel lighter, wrapped with his friend’s warmth and presence. For a while, he felt secure, away from any responsibilities. He deserved it, just for tonight. He would go back tomorrow, and double the effort if he had to, making sure he wouldn’t make the same mistake with Bokuto. But tonight, just tonight, he wanted to be Kuroo Testurou. Just a simple college guy. No murderous soulmate. 

“Bro!” Bokuto screamed over the music, running to him where he was seated on the couch of the living room, talking with some teammates. He looked up as Bokuto jumped over the couch, cheeks pink and a smile even wider than usual. “Let me show you the one I was talking to you about!” 

Kuroo didn’t have time to process Bokuto's words than someone jumped over the couch too, earning a few impressed whistles. He was small, and somehow, had as much energy as Bokuto, if not more. His hair was fluffy and orange, and Kuroo could swear he had already seen him somewhere. 

“This is the protegé I was telling you about! Hinata!” 

“Oh? Oh? Oh?” Kuroo said, standing up. He bent down to Bokuto’s friend, holding his hand on his forehead to compare his height. “So, you’re the wicked one Bo met at Japan’s camp?” 

Hinata jumped on his feet, almost kicking Kuroo’s chin in the process so Kuroo straightened up, grinning. Kuroo could easily see why his friend had taken a liking into the short kid, he seemed endearing. 

“Yes sir! And you’re the one who got to fight against the police right?” Hinata said, sparkles in his eyes. 

Kuroo raised a brow, looking at his friend for explanation, but found Bokuto nowhere. He heard Kai’s laugh behind him and turned around. 

“He’s already gone. Probably playing a game somewhere.” Kai explained, chuckling softly. 

Kuroo snorted. That was very Bokuto-like. He turned again to Hinata, and asked. “What did that owl say to you?” 

“You fought against the police to get to him.” The boy smiled, and Kuroo could easily see the excitement and admiration in his eyes. He laughed. He already liked the kid. 

“I didn’t fight against anyone.” He cleared out, grinning. “I just got away from his hold by the sheer force of my love for my Bro!” He joked around, winking. 

For the first time, Kuroo wasn’t uncomfortable or stressed when talking about it. He had always been reserved to talk about his soulmate, afraid to say something and give Kozume away. Plus, his general fear and anxiety didn’t help him much. But he felt comfortable laughing about that night, and he was sure the alcohol had something to do with it. 

“When was that again? Was the guy intimidating? God, I’d like to face a policeman!” Hinata asked without even giving Kuro the time to answer and the taller could only laugh. 

“Police _officer_.” He added, winking. “It was a week ago, when Bokuto replaced you. And yeah, he was built! He had that long ass name that I completely forgot but his first name was ridiculous compared to his massive body. I mean, Daichi was-”

Kuroo suddenly stopped, eyes growing wide, short on breath. He frowned, looking down, ignoring Hinata’s voice asking him if he was alright. When he finally visualized the man’s name in his mind, Kuroo dropped his almost empty glass and walked away. Hinata called him, but he didn’t stop as he screamed over his shoulder: 

“Tell Bokuto I’m going back home. I’m tired, I’ll text him.” 

He didn’t even wait for an answer as he started to run, heart beating fast, adrenaline in his blood, feeling completely sober. His heart was rattling against his ribcage, begging him to slow down but he ran as fast as he could, not bothering to even stop to catch his breath. It took him three minutes to open his door, his hands were trembling so much that the key didn’t want to cooperate. 

The moment the door opened he rushed into his room, kneeling on the ground and searching through the papers, breaths heavy and unsteady. When he found it, he quickly read it over, and froze at the sentences he had written between quote marks, where two names were highlighted. It was two sentences that he had heard during a dream. He remembered how uncomfortable he felt when he met the officer a week ago, he remembered how obsessed he was with this particular sheet this morning. And it clicked. He re-read the two dialogues. 

_“Daichi? Is everything okay?”_

_“Koushi don’t come down! Go hide!”_

Kuroo wasted no time to take his phone out and dial the police number. A voice echoed at the other end of the line, reciting a script that Kuroo didn’t listen to - he couldn’t have even if he wanted to, eager to talk, fingers tapping on his tights. At the end of her recitation, the late night operator finally asked in a tired voice: 

“How can I help you?” 

“Can I talk to Daichi, please?” He answered, voice rushed, breathing still heavy. He could hear his heart beating and felt it in his entire body, suspense and anxiety stunning him to place. 

“Do you mean officer Sawamura?” 

“Yes!” He almost screamed, hope making him stand up on his knees. 

“He is not here. Is there a message I should pass?” 

Kuroo prevented the groan of frustration, passing a nervous hand in his hair. He sighed deeply, trying to sound composed and calm. “Tell him it’s Kuroo Testurou. I called him about a murder one week ago. And I know that I may sound crazy right now, but he is going to get killed. In his own house. He will be stabbed in the heart, at night, and his gun won’t help him at all.” He winced, knowing the words escaping his mouth were absurd, but continued. “I don’t know when it will happen, but he and his boyfriend have to move out-”

“Are you the guy whose dream didn’t happen?” She cut him off, tone sharp, letting her annoyance slip through her lips. Kuroo couldn’t help the sarcastic scoff that got out of his nose. He was happy to know he had a reputation at the police’s office. 

Resigned, he breathed out, “Yes. But-”

She sighed deeply, and Kuroo heard the noise of a chair squeaking. “It’s 2AM, sir. We don’t have time for your jokes.” 

Kuroo didn’t have time to add anything before she hung up, leaving him with nothing but the complete silence of his room and the shattering sound of his failure. Kuroo violently threw his phone on his bed in a cry. 

  
  


Exactly three weeks and one day later, two police officers knocked at Kuroo’s door. They were fully armed, in their work attire, expression severe. 

Kuroo’s blood ran cold. 

“Are you Kuroo Tetsurou?” 

“Yes. What happened?” Kuroo breathed out, throat itching and body heavy. He didn’t even know why he had asked the question, knowing deep in his heart what the answer would be. 

Yet, Kuroo’s legs weakened and his heart missed a beat, sinking to his stomach, and sending a shiver down his spine when the man answered, voice neutral, empty of any emotions: 

“We have a few questions to ask you, about the murder of Sawamura Daichi.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoy writing it! 
> 
> Any comments are welcomed; constructive criticisms, theories, keyboard smash, emojis, anything that will help me know what you think of the chapter! Thank you so much for reading!!! 
> 
> You can also come scream at me on my [twitter ](https://twitter.com/_no0emiie?s=21).


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